Thursday, May 22, 2008

The secret history of my place

With house prices being as utterly insane as they are, a single-earner like me finds himself renting a small house on the edge of a bustling little market town in the Midlands. I’m lucky that the monthly rate is relatively cheap for what it is and I’m surrounded by some quite pleasant neighbours at the end of a quiet little cul-de-sac.

One of the couples living next door I chat to quite often and we stood having a natter this afternoon in the sun, clutching gardening tools.

They’ve seen many tenants come and go over the years and they began to relate to me some of the stories of those who lived there.

Bearing in mind that it’s a house built in the last few decades and it’s in a quite respectable part of town…

I could have never have guess that the place had once been raided for drugs by the very force that I work for…

And that a baby had once been born in the front room!

They’re a very respectable couple, and I have no reason to disbelieve them.

I now look at the place a little differently.

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